


building the kingdom with our deviant hearts

by NightsMistress



Category: Old Kingdom - Garth Nix
Genre: Gen, interquel story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 03:10:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7557847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightsMistress/pseuds/NightsMistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kilp's coup is in motion and Gullaine has to get Belatiel out of the castle and to the Abhorsen. It's not as easy as it sounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	building the kingdom with our deviant hearts

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to my artist, dhampyresa/sevenofspade, for their fantastic art! You can see it both embedded in the story or at [this post](http://dhampyresa.dreamwidth.org/146114.html)! You're a gem, dhampyresa ♥
> 
> My thanks also to my betas: isis, merit, and morbane. You three are also stones that we extract from the ground because we think they're pretty.

In the last few years of King Orrikan’s reign, many things had gone awry. The Royal blood could not keep even a grandfather and granddaughter connected, let alone a fracturing kingdom. The Abhorsen would rather put down boar than the Dead. Even the Clayr were represented in the capital city by a berserk with only the thinnest thread of Sight in her.

The only thing that was in Orrikan’s favour was that there remained some men and women loyal to him, despite his efforts to dismiss them. Orrikan had disbanded his Guard, choosing to closet himself away from the responsibilities of rule, and it had only been by the actions of Gullaine, Captain of the Royal Guard, that he had any loyal soldiers surrounding him at all.

The remainder had been folded into the guards of the various guilds. Gully had become accustomed to seeing her old soldiers now draped in guild-colours, their loyalty to their king and kingdom a known quantity despite their change of attire. The sight of such stalwart soldiers gave her some small comfort in these troubled times.

Tonight, however, those loyal men and women were nowhere to be seen. Gully had not seen any on her way to escort Clariel to the Abhorsen’s quarters an hour earlier, and could not find any now. There were more guards than usual too, tense and wary, and all refused to meet and hold Gullaine’s steady gaze. Had High Goldsmith Jaciel and her family still been at the castle, then perhaps the increased guard would have been warranted as a symbolic gesture of the importance of Jaciel to her guild. However, Gullaine knew that Jaciel, her husband Harven, and Clariel had gone to Kilp’s residence.

No one reached for a sword as she passed, but she could feel the guards’ eyes follow her. It made her skin crawl, and she had learned to trust her instincts to fill the gap her poor Sight left behind. Tonight was when whatever was brewing would happen. The streets had hummed with nervous tension, with everyone knowing that _something_ would have to happen soon to resolve the tension between the guilds and poor, miserable King Orrikan, who might welcome a coup if it resulted in his giving up his throne.

It was a terrible thing for a king to be forced to rule long after he should have vested power in his successor.

If only there were news of Tathiel.

If only Clariel could be persuaded to take up the crown.

If only there had been more time.

No matter. She, and her fellow conspirators, would have to do what they must in the time they had to safeguard the crown until a successor was found. The Kingdom would need an Abhorsen and a Queen in the future, ones willing to do their duty and set things right, and the two best options were here in Belisaere. Assuming they weren’t killed, by accident or design, tonight.

Clariel was in the most immediate danger. She was in Kilp’s residence, and her parents seemed to lack the wit to appreciate the threat that Kilp posed. But she was accompanied by Roban, and Gullaine would have to trust in his skill. As much as she yearned to go to Clariel’s side and see her safe by her own blade, it would do the kingdom little good to safeguard a reluctant girl only to lose their best hope of an Abhorsen willing to send the Dead into Death and beyond. Clariel could defend herself. Belatiel could not. Her duty was clear.

So. To the Abhorsen’s apartments then.

She strode past the sendings that guarded the secret passageways linking the main part of the castle to the Abhorsen’s apartments, her steps sure despite the darkness. It was a path she knew well, after all. She pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Her fingers sketched out a Charter mark in the air, and a warm light flooded the area in her immediate vicinity. Belatiel’s weapons and armour were stored on racks in an alcove attached to the main room. She collected them, then took his pipes, wishing as she did so that the rack with seven unusually-shaped spaces had been filled, as they were very clearly intended to be, with an Abhorsen’s bells. Things would have been very different had an active Abhorsen been at the castle.

She returned to the main room and placed the armour and weapons on a table. Belatiel had slept through her preparations, hunched over on his side and favouring his shoulder. Gullaine would carry him if she must, but it would be easier to defend him from Kilp’s hired soldiers if she had her hands free. She covered Bel’s mouth with her hand and he started awake under it as she shook him. Under the dim light from her Charter mark, his eyes were wild and frightened, until he recognised her. The fear remained though, especially when he took in the sight of the gethre plate, sword and knives glinting on the bedside table.

“You must be quiet,” whispered Gullaine as she lifted her hand away. “Can you get up?”

“What’s going on?” asked Bel, voice hoarse with sleep. He struggled to sit up, then clutched a hand to his shoulder and sank back into the pillows. He tried again, this time with Gullaine’s assistance, and managed it. He sat on the edge of the bed, and stared quizzically at Gullaine.

“If Kilp is making his move against the King he’ll come through here first.”

“What?” blurted Bel, his voice loud in the dark, and then winced. “Are you sure?” he added in a whisper.

“Nothing is sure in our endeavours, Bel,” she said. “Get dressed quickly,” she added, nodding at the pile on the bedside table and turning her back to him. She waited through his muttered profanities as he struggled to dress. There wasn’t much time. But there was time enough for him to dress and arm himself; there would have to be, if he was to get out of the castle alive

Of course, that was assuming he could stop talking long enough to get his armour on. Currently, Bel was the quietest that Gullaine had ever seen him. It was a pity he had to be frightened out of his wits in order to be silent.

“I need help with the plate,” Bel said, his voice strained. She turned back and helped to shift the gethre plate so that it sat as comfortably as possible on his injured shoulder. It was difficult, and he sucked a breath through his teeth as she let the plate settle into place. If things had gone as she and Kargrin had hoped, Bel would have had at least a few more days to recover. Fortunately he was young. He would recover from the injury. She knew that he would, if she was able to get him out of the castle. She had Seen it.

“They must think that there are passages to the castle through here, ones without sendings.” Bel turned his head to look at Gullaine as she fixed the plate into place on his good side. “Are there any?”

“No,” said Gullaine.

“Well, that’s something. I can’t imagine they’ll be too happy with that! I wonder what Kilp will do when his plan fails?”

Gullaine let Bel ramble on, handing over two knives and a sword for him to arm himself with, listening with half an ear for sounds of forced entry. Bel was convincing himself that his impression was correct: these apartments were only being targeted because of a perceived easier entrance to the castle. Gullaine let him if only because interrupting him would slow him down further, but she was conscious of the passage of time. Whatever advantage she had obtained was surely slipping away.

Once his second knife had been tucked into his boot, Gullaine pushed him as gently as possible toward the passageway she had come through. He stumbled, hissing in pain, but kept moving.

As she closed the door of the passageway behind them, Anstyr’s Horn began to blow.

Gully had hoped that the corridors connecting the wings of the castle would still be dark. Instead, the corridor’s Charter marks were live and glowing brightly, and the air was thick with sendings.

“What’s going on?” Bel’s voice was barely audible over the sound of the Horn. “Aren’t the corridors supposed to be secret?”

“They were,” Gully said tersely. While serving in the Royal Guard, each soldier was sworn to secrecy on their Charter mark about the existence of the passageways, and only officers knew where the passages actually were. When Orrikan released the majority of his Guard, Gully had tried to find all the soldiers who had known where to find them.

It was possible that Kilp could have known that the castle was riddled with secret passageways. It was less credible that his guard would have been able to find them in the time it took for her to wake Bel and get him prepared. There were only two options that Gully could envisage: an ex-officer was disloyal to his king, or had been compelled.

“Oh,” Bel said finally. “I see.” He was silent after that.

* * *

 

Gully was forced to take Bel through a roundabout route through the passages of the castle, in an attempt to reduce the number of soldiers that could attack them. It seemed that whomever had told Kilp and his fellow conspirators about the passageways knew some but not all of the routes, meaning that the most direct routes to the guard towers were heavily patrolled by guards. Gully had memorised the layout of the castle, but she was still required to adapt their path every time they came to an intersection and she could see a number of guards patrolling. To confound matters more, the Horn’s blast was disorienting as it echoed along the stone walls, and masked the sound of smaller patrols.

It was a terrible design flaw, a remnant of a time where no one in Belisaere would raise a hand against anyone with Royal blood, so the Horn would only be used to warn the inhabitants of the castle against an outside threat. If she survived this, Gully would have to work out an alternate plan for evacuating the Royal family and their relations during an insurrection.

She was prodding Bel through the passage that linked a dining hall to a wing used by minor nobility when the sound of two arguing guards came to her from around the corner. Gully gestured at Bel to move toward the wall. He scowled but did as she directed. She then moved closer to the corner, angling herself so that she could see who was there. Fortunately, the guards were too wrapped up in their argument to notice her.

“I don’t care if Kilp ordered it,” said one guard, a tall beaky fellow with a nose curved like a scythe. “I’ve heard about these Abhorsen types. Kill one and they’ll hunt you _forever_. Besides, how are we gonna get out of this if Kilp doesn’t get what he wants? We’re going to need hostages to bargain with.”

Gully drew her sword. The rasp of sword against sheath was audible over the sound of the Horn, and drew the attention of the two guards. They drew their own swords before they rounded the corner.

“What are you doing?” Bel hissed, far too close. Gully didn’t turn around, focusing her attention on the guards. For a tense moment, no one moved.

“That’s the Abhorsen?” the other guard said.

“ _An_ Abhorsen,” Bel corrected. “ _The_ Abhorsen is my great-uncle.”

“Now is not the time to correct them on your family tree, Bel,” Gully said.

“He’s just a boy,” the scythe-nosed guard said in tones of great surprise. “My Ally is his age.”

Neither guard moved to attack. Gully rapidly assessed her options. There was no utility in taking either of them hostage, as Kilp would not value their lives. There was also little utility in taking them in for questioning, as whatever information they had about the coup would be limited.

She killed the two guards easily, taking advantage of their surprise and obvious reluctance to commit fully to their course of action.

“Gully!” Bel said sharply. Even as startled as he was, he still kept his voice to a harsh whisper, Gullaine was pleased to hear. “They were going to surrender!”

“Maybe,” she said impatiently, exasperated by his naïveté. “But we are not in a position to take prisoners. When they entered the castle, they knew the likely consequences. This is treason, Belatiel, and they can’t rely on the fact that they were following orders. A soldier’s oath to her king should be unbreakable.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Bel said unhappily. “But I wish we could have let them live.”

He was silent after that, a remarkable event given who he was. Though, Gully suspected that part of that was because she had picked up their pace. Behind them, they could hear the guard sendings growling at those who entered the secret corridors without permission before the sendings fell ominously silent. Through her grip on his elbow, Gully could feel Bel’s shivers. If he had been anyone else, the shivering and the pallor would have given her pause, but the Clayr knew what their Abhorsen cousins could do.

“Are they following us?” she said as they took the left branch at an intersection of corridors.

“No, thankfully,” Bel panted. “There must not be a necromancer with them. That’s one piece of good fortune! A necromancer would stir even my great-uncle into action, but he’s likely is off with his hunts. He won’t be back for days. Factoring in the flight from Hillfair, and we just wouldn’t have the time to bring him here.”

“Shh,” Gullaine interrupted. “The corridors echo.”

“How could they hear anything over the Horn?” Bel said. “It’s so loud I can’t even hear myself think!”

He did have a point, but she had her reasons. It was unlikely that the guards would hear Bel over the racket of Anstyr’s Horn and the sendings, but when he spoke his pace slowed down, if it did not stop entirely. Gullaine picked up the pace, causing Belatiel to walk faster or be left behind. He stopped talking after that.

* * *

 

Gullaine was able to tell how far away they were from the invasion by how dark the corridors were. Where she had a choice, she guided Bel into the darkest corridors, hand steady on his elbow to catch him if he stumbled. So far he had proven to be sure-footed, if slow, so long as she kept him from talking. She kept him moving as quickly as possible, gauging how much she could push him by how fast and shallow his breath was, and how pained he sounded. She felt bad about pushing him so hard, but better a sore shoulder than death.

Finally, the two of them came to a junction leading left and right, with both passages equally dark. Gully had memorised the secret passageways in her first week as Captain of the Guard, and so was fairly sure that the wall in front of them was less solid than it looked. The wall felt rough to her touch as she sketched marks onto the rough-hewn stone, but she could feel the familiar tingle of a Charter spell recognising her Blood and her position.

The illusion of a stone wall vanished, exposing a reinforced wooden door that linked the castle passageways to the back of the guard compound. She pushed the door open to a sky the colour of a newly-struck bruise, the darkness lit by the moon and night stars. It was a clear night, and Gully could see as far as the garrison and the walls encircling the castle.

The immediate vicinity looked clear of any fighting. That was reassuring. The passage from the castle to the guard compound could only be opened by the Captain of the Guard or her second, and Gully knew that Karrice was commanding the garrison. If there was no fighting here, then the walls surrounding the castle had not been breached.

She stepped outside and gestured for Bel to join her.

He did, and looked around them, frown deepening as he did so. Gully supposed he had never seen the guard compound empty; whenever she had taken him there it was always full of guards doing practice drills. Then it was lively and loud, guards swearing and grunting as they worked their way through drills. Now, the night was silent and still.

“Where is everyone?” he asked finally. “I know they wouldn’t have abandoned their posts, but I can’t see anyone at all.”

“Look to the walls,” Gullaine said. “See?” She pointed up towards the walls where the silhouettes of guards preparing weaponry were visible against the moon-lit sky.

She knew that her place as Captain of the Guard was with her soldiers, fighting to hold off Kilp’s insurrection. She also knew that if she told Belatiel to stay here, it was rather more likely that he would wander off and end up in trouble at the end of a sword. It troubled her to do it, but the only way that she could ensure Belatiel’s safety while not betraying her oath to the King would be to bring him with her.

“We’re going to join them,” she added.

Bel brightened, which was hopelessly young and naive of him.

“Where are your pipes? From here on, you should keep them in your hand.”

Bel nodded and pulled a set of seven pipes, small enough to be held with one hand, out of the pouch on his left hip. Charter marks swam across the pipes’ silvery surface as he inspected the pipes carefully for any scratches or deformation. For a moment, Gully could see in the way that he held them the Abhorsen he would be: serious and competent, but also troubled. His path would not be an easy one. Then she blinked and he was the same eager boy he had been since he had come to Belisaere, albeit one holding his pipes with easy familiarity.

“If we encounter any Dead, we’ll need you to send them on. Otherwise you are to stay out of the way and let us do the fighting,” Gullaine said. “Do you understand?”

Bel looked mutinous.

“Belatiel?”

“I understand,” he said finally. “But you could use me, you know. I don’t have to use a sword, Kargrin has been teaching me Charter magic too.”

“We have Charter mages in the Guard,” Gullaine said. “What we don’t have is an Abhorsen. If Kilp does have a necromancer with him then we need an Abhorsen to deal with the dead.”

“Do you think Kilp’s one?” Bel frowned. “As far I know, he’s a user of Free Magic and Free Magic and necromancy tend to go hand in hand. Not that I know much about Free Magic, but everyone knows that much.”

“It’s possible,” Gullaine allowed. “But I’ve never heard that musical ability runs in his family. Quite the opposite.”

“That would make it hard to be a necromancer,” Bel agreed. “I know that Alonzo is tone deaf. Maybe it runs in the family.” Bel, like all of his family, had perfect pitch, and at that moment sounded quite smug about it. Gully remembered hearing from Mistress Ader that Bel and Alonzo shared a mutual dislike. “But do you think he knows that? Alonzo’s really arrogant, and I don’t think Kilp’s much better. Maybe he’ll try it anyway.”

“I don’t know how having uncontrolled Dead around would help us,” Gullaine said.

“True,” Bel said. He took a deep breath and let it out heavily but steadily. Testing, it seemed, for what he might have to do. “I don’t know how loudly I can blow my pipes. They’re not really made for _this_ kind of battle. Abhorsens do fight in skirmishes like this, or so I’ve read, but they normally have the bells.”

“We have _a_ Bel,” Gullaine said and was rewarded with Bel rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Just stay where I tell you to. You’ve already been shot; it’s too soon for a repeat performance.”

Bel made a face, pressing a hand unconsciously to his healing arrow wound. “I’ve been reviewing my wards since then,” he protested. “I’m pretty sure even a spelled quarrel won’t get through now.”

Gullaine shook her head. “Let’s not test that in battle. Follow me.” 

* * *

 

By the time Gully had gotten Bel up the stairs leading to the first guard tower on the walls, the battle was well underway. Gully could smell the battle before she could see it, the smell of pitch and ozone mixing with burned flesh. The hum of arrows mixed with the screams and cries of the injured and dying.

As far as battles went, it seemed to be going well. Gully blinked away tears as her eyes adjusted from the dim stairwell to the brighter light of charter spells and torchlight and looked for her second.

She found Karrice by the wall, directing the next assault, surrounded by a handful of archers and Charter Mages. Six foot tall and bulky with muscle, she was deceptively quick with both sword and bow. She grinned when she saw Gullaine and Belatiel.

“Gully!” she said cheerfully. “Glad to see you made it!” She glanced over at Bel, who was staring at the scene with wide eyes. “New recruit?”

If Gully hadn’t known Karrice since she was a teenager, she would have thought that Karrice didn’t understand the meaning of the silver keys dusting Bel’s surcoat, or the pipes he clutched in his good hand. Karrice’s ability to grasp situations quickly and without fanfare was part of why she was so valuable a second to Gully.

“Charter mage,” Gully said laconically, for the benefit of eavesdroppers. “He’s one of Kargrin’s students.”

“Right, right,” Karrice said. “Learned how to make arrow wards yet?”

“Tells me he’s been reviewing them,” Gullaine said. “I’m going to stick him behind fortifications, give him a taste of battle.”

“There’ll be plenty of that by the time the night’s over,” Karrice said. She looked up as an arrow streaked over the barricades to bounce off the stone wall behind them.

There was the familiar spark-hum across Gullaine’s skin as someone cast Charter magic on her. It was an arrow ward, but one stronger than she could have cast. She looked over to see Bel, face set in concentration, as he sketched the marks for his own ward. _He_ has _been reviewing them,_ she thought. _Kargrin will be pleased. I’ll have to remember to tell him later._

“Bel?”

“I know you said not to do anything, but I can keep these up,” he said earnestly. “I can’t just hide behind a wall and do nothing. I want to help.”

Gullaine nodded. She looked around at the temporary barricades erected along the wall to shield healers and Charter mages, before pointing at one that didn’t seem to be drawing fire. “Stay there, and don’t fight unless there are Dead.”

Bel nodded jerkily before going where she directed. Gully then turned her attention to the battle. From what she could see, the Royal guard had two advantages that Kilp’s forces below did not: a defensive position and a shared goal. The guilds may have been aligned with Kilp at the moment, but as she had seen earlier that evening, the guilds’ guards didn’t all share his aspirations or conviction. Gully might have had some sympathy for guards simply following orders, but her sympathy ran out at treason.

It was tragic, but they were part of a coup. Her soldiers were holding the wall, and that was what mattered right now. When one arrow struck a Royal guard, another took his or her place. When a ladder was run up the wall, a Charter Mage set it alight, or pushed it over with a gust of wind. When an arrow was aimed at Gullaine, it bounced off Bel’s arrow ward and landed harmlessly to ground at her feet.

Finally, the guild guard retreated. It was not quite a rout, but it did buy everyone a reprieve from the fighting for a time. Gullaine was pleased to note that none of the guild guards had reached the top of the wall. The Royal guard had done their job.

“Good work,” she said to Karrice, who acknowledged the praise with a nod.

She then went to Bel where he sat behind his barricade. He was pale, and smiled sickly at her when he saw her. It was an expression she had seen on many new recruits, struck for the first time that soldiering meant people died by your hand and that the alternative was that you would end up dying by someone else’s hand. Battle was not romantic but a brutal, savage struggle for life. Clariel would not have looked at her like this, she knew, but Clariel was a berserk like her.

“Was that your first real battle?” she said.

He nodded. “I thought it would be like my great-uncle’s hunts. It wasn’t.”

She rested her hand on his good shoulder a moment. “You did well, Belatiel,” she said. “Stay here a time. I’ll wait for Kargrin.”

“Is he coming here?” Bel said, rising up on one knee. “I need to talk to him.”

“It’s likely he needs to talk to you as well,” Gullaine said. She pressed down on his shoulder firmly, and he sank back down. “For now, you need to stay here. The battle’s not over, not yet, and Kargrin can look after himself.”

“All right.” Bel sounded and looked subdued, very different from the animated, talkative fellow he normally was. She could see the pale, serious Abhorsen the Clayr had said he would be, rather than the excitable young man he currently was. He leaned his good shoulder against the wall, before settling back with a wince. “I’ll stay and wait for him.” 

* * *

 

There were several more attempts to seize the walls by the time Gullaine saw Kargrin. She’d kept out of command for the evening, letting Karrice take the reins. The latest development was that some enterprising Charter Mage had turned the ground Kilp’s forces were fighting on into thick, sticky mud, which had slowed the retreating guild guards enough to allow two more volleys of arrows to strike them. It was clever, but also draining, and Gully had had to guide a few Charter mages to shelter, their throats burned by the marks they had cast.

“Gully?” Kargrin called, his head craning as he searched for her. He looked tired in the flickering torch light, but also frustrated. Gully could sympathise.

“Just here,” Gullaine said, standing up, her knees aching with the strain. As Kargrin drew closer she inclined her head to where Belatiel slept unquietly. At some point he had shifted from leaning against the wall with his shoulder to resting his back against it, though he was slipping down the wall into an inelegant sprawl. Kargrin came over and checked Bel’s wound with a practiced eye. After a moment of thoughtful study, he drew a series of charter marks in the air. The pinched pain-lines of Bel’s face eased, but he did not awaken.

“Where’s Clariel?”

“Ah,” Kargrin sighed. “She’s been captured by Kilp. I thought she would go to her home. Instead, she came to mine and I was not there to rescue her. I’ll attend to that next.”

There was something peculiarly familiar about the set of his shoulders and the way that Kargrin squinted against the light of the rising sun, but it took Gullaine a moment to understand it. “You had to use a Charter skin?”

“Yes, and it won’t be the last, I think.” Kargrin made a face. “My rats are following Kilp now to work out his movements, but I am certain about where Clariel is.”

“And where is that?”

“The Winter Palace. Kilp is keeping her in one of the Charter-nullifying cells.” He smiled sardonically, his teeth flashing in the poor light. “It seems that Goldsmiths think that Clariel is a powerful charter mage like her mother, and so want to prevent her escaping.”

Gully knew about those cells. The way Kargrin would have to get in was obvious, and given that he could not use the rat one again tonight he would be limited as to his options. “You’re going to use the mole skin, aren’t you. The one you hate,” Gullaine said cheerfully. “You always complain about it.”

“That’s because I hate it.” He looked down at Belatiel. “Does he know?” It was clear that he was not talking about Clariel’s capture.

Gullaine shook her head. “No. Fortunately, we ran into two guards who thought about holding him hostage in exchange for their safety. They had forgotten what the Abhorsen is, and assumed he was just an injured boy with connections to the King. I imagine Kilp thought the same.”

“Perhaps,” Kargrin agreed. “It has been a long time since the Abhorsens did their duty, and Kilp would never have seen one. I don’t believe that they understand that he is the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, or what that means for their plans. If he truly had understood, you would have been inundated with guards. It’s fortunate indeed, Gully.”

“Did you see the Governor’s House?” Gullaine asked. “Is there any chance that we could go there tonight?”

“It’s not safe.” Kargrin glanced over the battlements to the city below.” He sighed. “Gully, it’s not safe for Clariel and Belatiel here. Not now. They need to leave.”

“To where?” Gullaine asked practically. “I could get word to the Clayr, but that’s too far for them to go.”

“To the Abhorsen,” Kargrin said. “Clariel is his granddaughter, and now that Jaciel is dead, there is no safer place for her. For her and Bel both.” He opened his mouth to say more before stopping. His head cocked, expression intent and focused.

Gully waited. She couldn’t hear anything, but Kargrin was always more sensitive to animal communication after he had worn a Charter-skin. Chances were, one of his animal assistants had found what he had sent them to look for.

“Ah, the coast is clear.” He looked over the parapet to the city below. “Remember where we had drinks last month?”

“Of course.” It was an inn near the Winter Palace, run by an old soldiering buddy of Gullaine’s. It would be the closest safe haven to the Winter Palace, and so a safe place to bring Clariel after Kargrin rescued her.

“From there, we’ll need transportation. That’ll be Bel’s job.”

Bel frowned slightly, but kept his eyes closed. Gullaine smiled.

“I dare say he heard you already. Bel, you can stop pretending now.”

“I heard your voices,” Bel said and sat up against the wall. He made a face.

“How is your shoulder?” Kargrin said quickly.

“Shoulder’s still stiff, but that’s better than before. Did you heal it?”

“As much as I could,” Kargrin said. “I wish we had more time, but I must save my strength for the next battle.”

“That’s fine,” Bel said. “I can cast spells with one hand.”

“All you need is to be able to whistle,” Kargrin said. “We’re sending the two of you by paperwing to the Abhorsen. His daughter is likely dead, leaving his granddaughter an orphan. He should know.”

“Yes, I suppose he should, even if he won’t care about Clariel’s mother,” Bel said. “The Abhorsens do look after orphans, as I well know. But wouldn’t it be better for Clariel to go? I can help you here.”

“The two of you must go,” Kargrin said. “The message you bear to the Abhorsen is too important to trust to one person alone.”

“She won’t want to go,” Bel said warily. “She’s made no secret of where she would rather be.”

“No, she won’t,” Kargrin agreed. “But you two _must_ go to Hillfair. What Kilp has done will put the both of you in grave danger.”

“It’s a long way, even by paperwing,” Bel said, thinking aloud. “Is there time to teach Clariel the marks? You’ve been teaching her Charter magic, and she must be talented.”

“Clariel is … not an apt pupil of the Charter,” Kargrin said.

Gullaine generally liked Kargrin, but didn’t agree with the disapproval in his voice. Not all who had the Charter were bound to use it. Some did not have the aptitude and some did not have the interest. And some needed a reason to learn the Charter. As cold as it was, the death of Clariel’s parents would likely serve as that impetus. As their daughter, Clariel would feel it necessary to set the kingdom to rights, to make their deaths mean something.

“It’s probably better that I do the navigation anyway,” Bel said hesitantly. “We’re less likely to get lost along the way if I’m the pilot.”

What he did not say, but Gullaine knew he was thinking, was that if she were in control of the craft, Clariel would undoubtedly try to use the paperwing to slip into the Great Forest and disappear from everyone to live her life as she chose. She was a very purposeful young lady, and very single-minded in that purpose. It would make her either a very good or very bad queen, depending on whether she accepted advice.

“You said before that we were both in danger,” Bel said. “Clariel, I can understand; the King saw her. But the King has had no time for me whatsoever, everyone knows that. Why would I be in danger?”

“Because of your great-uncle,” Kargrin said. “You’re his envoy to the court. If you’re captured, he’ll be honour-bound to try and negotiate your release.”

“I don’t think he’s likely to do _that_ ,” Bel said. “There are a lot of us Abhorsen around, I doubt he’d do that just for me. But … I suppose if I was a hostage then Himself would have to do something. Not because it’s me, but because I’m his envoy to the capital. I see what you mean.”

Gully thought it was fascinating watching Bel talk himself into believing what Kargrin wanted him to believe. Their group had known all along that it was Belatiel who was truly the Abhorsen in Waiting. Mistress Ader had known the minute he had entered her school and had told the others, and it was that reason that Bel had been brought into their confidences to a certain extent.

The Kingdom needed an active Abhorsen, one dedicated to keeping the Dead down. The kingdom’s decline may have begun with the devaluing of the Abhorsen’s role long before Tyriel, but he had done little to stop it. Bel was amenable to their cause, but was not cunning enough for the politics of Belisaere. The only thing keeping him safe for the time being was that Bel could not give away what he did not know.

Gully hoped there was time to train Bel in what it meant to be the Abhorsen. They’d thought there would be more time. Ader had wanted to ease him into the knowledge after the King’s reign had been stabilised, and had planned to teach him the things Tyriel refused to learn or understand. Belatiel had sought out Kargrin to teach him the Charter, and Kargrin had said he was dedicated and talented pupil. But being the Abhorsen was not simply an aptitude for the Charter and Death.

Gully wished she had more of the Sight to see what would be.

“I doubt that,” Bel was saying, raising his eyebrows. It seemed that he and Kargrin were still discussing the likelihood of Tyriel taking action if Belatiel were killed in the coup while Gully had been preoccupied with her own thoughts. “And if he did, it wouldn’t be until next year, if the old man would do it at all.”

“Yes, but the rift between you and your great-uncle is not well known.”

“That’s true,” Bel allowed.

“Though that’s not by any of your doing,” Kargrin continued.

Bel winced. “That’s true as well,” he agreed slowly, with great reluctance. He added hastily, “Though I really only told Clariel because she was a cousin, you know.”

“It’s not who you told but what you told and when,” Kargrin said. “You really are not a born conspirator.”

“Not at all,” Bel said. His smile was a little self-deprecating. “So it is a good thing you’re here to be better at it! It’s a pity we never had the time to bring Clariel in properly; she knows how to keep a secret.”

Gully thought that Clariel only looked like she was better at keeping secrets than Belatiel because most people were. He was right that it was a pity that Clariel had not been properly brought into their confidences; it would have been easier to convince Clariel of the necessity of her taking the throne if she too believed in their cause. She had been wary. Now she would be lost, and confused. Time was of the essence, but the Kingdom would be ill-served by putting an unprepared Queen on the throne.

“Later, we’ll try again,” Gullaine said.

“Again?”

“She is cousin to the King. Royal blood flows in her veins as well.”

Gullaine watched his expression change as understanding dawned on him. “Oh. _Oh_. You didn’t want her to join us because she’s an Abhorsen like me. You mean to make her regent until Princess Tathiel’s found. She won’t want that at all.”

“No, she didn’t.”

Bel frowned. “I didn’t know any of this.”

“You didn’t need to.”

Bel made a non-committal sound in his throat. “I suppose not,” he said finally, without heat. “But why do I know now? Is it because she would tell me anyway, and this way I know what she’s talking about? You could have told me sooner — I couldn’t have told anyone about it anyway!” He shook his head sharply. “No matter, once we’re at Hillfair, you can fill me in then! You will, won’t you?”

“What we can,” Gully said. “It’ll be hard to get information out of Belisaere until everything is settled.”

“While you’re there, please give the Abhorsen this.” Kargrin reached into a pouch and pulled out a slender crystal vial. Gullaine recognised it, and its contents.

Bel took it and then blinked in surprise, fingers spasming. “I thought I recognised this! One to go under the waterfall then?”

“Yes, the creature who shot you the other day. It’s spelled so that you can hold it as well as the Abhorsen.”

“Not Clariel?”

“No. Do not tell her about it, or that you can hold it.”

“Why not? She’s an Abhorsen like me.”

“The fewer people know about it the better.”

“All right,” Belatiel said dubiously. Then he shrugged, dismissing his own concern. “It doesn’t really matter anyway, in two days it’ll be under the waterfall and it won’t be mine or Clariel’s or anyone’s problem really.”

* * *

 

As they waited at the paperwing field for Bel to put on his cloak, Gullaine wondered if, twenty years ago, the Nine Day Watch had seen all of this, everything that had occurred to bring them to this point, everything that was happening now. They had shown her only one small part, the very end — her end. When she had made her decision to leave the Glacier, the Nine Day Watch had been called to see what path she would follow. They had shown her a young man with badly-cut dark hair, serious and very afraid, sword in one hand and bell in the other, wearing the Abhorsen’s ring and surcoat. She herself was in front of the throne, face down and clearly dead, wearing the Captain of the Guard uniform that she wore now. Behind her had been a terrible masked creature, a Free Magic sorcerer of unremarkable height, slender as only a youth could be. She remembered the necromancer’s black hair, shorn at the neck, and had wondered which distant Abhorsen child this was.

At the time she had thought the Abhorsen she saw was Periel, the Abhorsen in Waiting, or a child of his, as the news of his death had yet to reach the Glacier. Now she knew who the scared Abhorsen would be. It was unfortunate that she did not know who the necromancer was, but she would find out soon enough. If she read this battle right — and she was sure that she did — the vision she saw was meant to come true in a handful of days.

The Clayr of the Nine Day Watch had shown her only this. She had thought at the time it was meant to dissuade her; instead it had strengthened her resolve. She had nodded, and accepted her destiny. All people died. If she was to die, it was better for it to be a worthwhile death: in the service of the King, protecting the Abhorsen. This conviction had steered her well since her arrival in Belisaere twenty years ago.

The paperwings, constructs of paper, glue and Charter, looked too fragile to bear their group’s hopes: a young man who didn’t know what he was and a young woman who knew and rejected it. The Kingdom would need them both at the end of this uprising. It had been far too long since the Kingdom had seen a young, enthusiastic Abhorsen and a dutiful, sensible Queen. Clariel would come around, once she saw that the choices lay between her mother’s murderer and herself. She had the Blood, and with it the duty, to assume rule if the Charter Stones accepted her. Gullaine expected they would. Tathiel had run. Clariel would not.

She steered Bel towards the nearest Royal paperwing. He stumbled beside her, panting despite the short walk, and he was very pale. Long experience with young, overly eager solders meant that she knew that he was being pushed beyond his endurance. Still, he held up without complaint as they walked as quickly as she dared toward the nearest red and gold paperwing. It studied them with its painted dark eyes.

“Should we be stealing a paperwing, when I have one of my own?” Bel said.

“We want them to hesitate before shooting you out of the sky,” Gullaine explained.

“Oh.” The word was heavy with meaning. “Yes, of course. My great-uncle really needed to have come here a long time ago.”

This was true. An active and trained Abhorsen in the castle would have given Kilp pause, especially as Tyriel was a contemporary of Orrikan’s. Maybe the two of them could have encouraged each other to fulfill their duty, rather than hide away and pretend it wasn’t their responsibility. At the very least Orrikan would have had to acknowledge his court, rather than let the kingdom rot around him while it waited for Tathiel to return.

“Yes,” Gully said. “But he still can come. Ask him, when you arrive.” She heaved him into the paperwing. He scrambled into position one-handed, biting back a cry of pain as he bumped his injured shoulder. Gullaine loaded the paperwing with an extra cloak and provisions. The provisions were sparse, but they would last Belatiel and Clariel to Hillfair if they could not find a waystation, especially if Bel was as fit to fly as Kargrin said that he was. She hoped that Kargrin was right. Clariel had neither the skill nor talent in the Charter to whistle the winds, despite the powerful legacy of her mother and the hot, incandescent anger of a berserk.

Clariel should have been set free a long time ago.

If only that had been an option. But Clariel was not a wild animal, but instead a thinking, reasoning person with a duty to her Kingdom. What she wanted would have to come second to that.

“Remember what you promised,” she told Belatiel after he had made himself as comfortable as possible and when the paperwing had been loaded. “Bring Clariel to the Abhorsen at Hillfair.”

She saw Bel nod, face pale and resolute. “I will, and then we’ll wait to hear from you,” he said. Gullaine stepped away from the paperwing to give it space to take off. Bel whistled, a clear pure note full of Charter marks. The paperwing took off into the midmorning sky.

Gullaine took a moment to watch it, to make sure it was headed toward the inn where she hoped Kargrin waited with Clariel. Then she turned and headed back to the castle. Though her Sight was limited, she was a good daughter of the Clayr. She had never run from her visions, and she would not now.


End file.
